


The Firsts and the Lasts

by Violet_arabian



Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Aged-Up Peter Parker, Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie) Spoilers, Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, Deadpool Thought Boxes, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Iron Dad, M/M, Minor Character Death, NOTHING HAPPENS to either of them, POV Alternating, Panic Attacks, Parent Tony Stark, THEY JUST TALK ABOUT IT, no happy ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-14
Updated: 2019-02-14
Packaged: 2019-10-28 12:07:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 19,236
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17787119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Violet_arabian/pseuds/Violet_arabian
Summary: Peter managed to survive the Vulture, get in good graces with Tony Stark, and finish the school year in a neat bow. Finally, his life as Spider-Man had begun. Sure, he still took care of petty theft and the occasional grand theft, but he had also been acknowledged. Which meant that there were more big-time baddies to fight and wounds to tend. Yet, for some reason, no one told him that villains or anti-heroes would be so infuriatingly persistent.From the start of his senior year to the next three chapters of his life, Peter faces dark alleyways, high rooftops, close calls, and family time. All while dealing with Deadpool, unaware of the heavy and dark future looming above them.





	The Firsts and the Lasts

**Author's Note:**

> Wow. This was a ride. So many things happened to me while I was writing this. It's shorter than I wanted but life stuff happened and I found that it was better to keep it as it was rather than rush and deal with stress.
> 
> ANYWAY, we're just gonna pretend that Thanos waited three or four extra years to let Spidey get a bit more time to superhero.
> 
> I want to thank my beta readers from discord: baby-groot and [TJC2009](https://tjc2009-2018.tumblr.com/).
> 
> And, of course, my lovely and talented artist: [Moemai](http://moemai.tumblr.com/). They created [this lovely art](http://moemai.tumblr.com/post/182811565470/happy-valentines-guys-its-a-funny-coincidence).
> 
> Deadpool's thought boxes:  
> [White]  
> (Yellow)

As much as Peter wished he could say his patrols after the Vulture got more interesting, they really hadn't. Sure, there were a few criminals who got their hands on alien tech or had their own powers to wreak havoc, but none of them proved to be that difficult to deal with; however, after he managed to put Liz's father away in jail, his reputation grew. Nearly every citizen in New York would recognize him as he flung himself from building to building. But every citizen also had their own opinion of him.

It was to be expected, he supposed. Every superhero was judged when they had to make a choice. Big or small. Mr Stark had his fanboys and the ones that hated him with a passion. And after Captain America decided to ditch the Avengers to stay independent... well, that was an entirely different story. He still struggled to comprehend the fact that he had met the Avengers. Since he hadn't been able to shake off the awe, he hadn't really been able to give the entire civil war much thought. Or think about which side was right. Not that it mattered much anymore.

With a heavy sigh, Peter propelled himself toward the nearest roof. He had gone on a patrol to escape his thoughts, not to dwell on them. He landed with a roll and sprung back up to his feet to observe the city beneath him. Well, if anything good had come from the entire ordeal, it was his suit. While he didn't depend on it that much anymore and he had given up on his initial fear of fiddling with it, the fact that he didn't have to wear blue and red pyjamas made his life a little easier. He had dedicated a lot more time to learn what the suit could do and spent even more time in the lab trying to come up with ways of improving it. Plus, his senses, which were normally dialled to eleven, were monitored by Karen and he didn't have to hold them back when he was fighting.

The cacophony of sound that was New York continued to drone on. It had been a fairly uneventful night. The only 'crime' he had to stop was a fight between two drunk men who were probably experiencing their mid-life crises. Peter sat down on the edge of the roof, swinging his legs casually. He'd give the night five more minutes before he went back home. Then, he'd finish up his lab report for science and tuck himself in for bed. He pulled his phone out to keep track of the time and send a quick text to Ned; to confirm a lingering question he had on the lab report.

Before he could see what his best friend's response was, he heard a scream. Instantly, he was on his feet, shoving his phone away into an inconspicuous pocket he'd added himself. He jumped off the building, slinging off to where the shout had originated from. His adrenaline was already pumping erratically. It was impossible to predict the source of such a painful cry. He always went into these situations blind. All that mattered was that someone was in trouble.

When he arrived at the supposed crime scene, he took a quick second to analyze the area. The first thing he noticed was the body of a man on the dirty concrete ground, crawling deeper into the alley. His breath hitched when he spotted the blood. Before he could act, he found himself frozen when he noticed the black and red tactical suit. The urge to flee hit him like a brick when he took in all the dangerous accessories before him.

Two swords were crossed on the person’s — probably a man’s — back. They only momentarily distracted Peter from the various guns, grenades, and knives attached to his suit. He recognized the costume, of course, he did. After the debacle with the Vulture, Mr Stark made sure to fill him in on the people he needed to stay away from. And Deadpool had been one of the first people on that list.

Swallowing his fear, he quickly crawled across the building, following them into the alley. In his hand, Deadpool held a gun and was flicking it everywhere as he rambled about something. Peter was a bit too distracted to concentrate on what he was saying. Mr Stark was going to kill him. He exhaled softly and shook his head. He was Spider-Man right now. Not Peter Parker.

He kicked off the wall, managing a successful flip as he landed on the pavement. Just as quickly, he whipped his arm forward, sending a stream of webbing at Deadpool’s hand to wrench the gun out of his grip.

"You shouldn't go waving that thing around. You could kill someone," Peter quipped.

Deadpool blinked and looked down at his now empty grip. He flexed his fingers and turned to look at the discarded weapon on the wet ground. An array of emotions flashed on his mask before a grin settled. If Peter hadn't been as freaked or scared as he was, he probably would have asked how his mask could emote so well. It was uncanny.

"Hey—" the mercenary drawled suddenly. "You're the spidey dude! The itsy bitsy spider! Can I get an autograph?"

Surprisingly, he didn't look all that scandalized by being disarmed. Or maybe that was to be expected. He'd probably been disarmed too many times to count.

Peter frowned under the mask and stressed, "Spider-Man. The name is Spider-Man. And no. You can’t."

Deadpool snorted and replied, "Not with that voice you're not. You sound like a prepubescent child. Like a mouse whose parachute won’t open."

"I do not! I'm a man," he insisted.

"Sure ya' are, kid. You're jailbait waiting to happen." He seemed to phase out for a bit and grumbled, "No more ass jokes," seemingly to himself before nodding his head and continuing, "Since I don't wanna crush the dreams of hundreds of kiddos, I'm going to humbly ask that you exit the scene."

He didn't even need his spidey sense to comprehend the threat. No matter how nonchalantly it had been said, the threat was there. Following the path of his shiver, he could feel goosebumps perk up in alarm. The man before him wasn't his run-of-the-mill criminal. He had a growing kill count that could rival a village or a small town.

Peter swallowed his fear and lifted his fists. "I'm not going to let you kill that man."

As the silence continued to stretch, he could feel his anxiety crawl to the surface. The mercenary across from him seemed to stare at him unwaveringly, and he would be lying if he didn't say that it freaked him out. This was somehow so much worse than being stuck under rubble. He was staring at death straight in the eye and challenging it. Man, he seriously wished he could have let Ned know that he wouldn't be able to make it to their lego session next week. Or the one after that. Or, hell, thank Mr Stark for everything he did for him. And apologize to Happy for spamming his phone.

Then, suddenly, a wild laugh shattered his thoughts. He shook his head, mentally scolding himself for spacing out. He couldn't do that around villains as dangerous as the one in front of him. His spidey sense may not be able to warn him in time. Yet, despite his concerns, the merc in front of him continued to chuckle. He bent forward, placing his hand on his knees as his body shook with laughter.

It was wildly unexpected, but it gave him a chance to study him. Deadpool was large. Not only was he taller—maybe by a couple of inches—but he was also wider, in the buff sense. He also carried an air of danger around him, even when he was chortling like a child. Awkwardly, Peter cleared his throat and straightened up, eyeing the man carefully.

After a particularly loud howl, the merc wiped an invisible tear by the white eye of his mask. "Man, kid. You're a hoot. Y'should know what you're defending before you try and defend it."

"I— what? What are you talking about?" Peter's eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "All I see is you trying to kill someone in a dark New York alley."

Deadpool waved his hand dismissively and replied, "Yeah, and that's the problem. The dude you're defending is a child molester slash rapist. So skedaddle on out Spidey."

Peter froze. Ah, the moral dilemma. Was it right to kill a man who committed obscene crimes?

He bit his lip and bit out, "How do I know you're not lying?"

Almost immediately, the mood soured. Peter tensed as his senses began to ring alarms in his head. He had said the wrong thing. God, he shouldn't have said anything at all. Although he couldn't see the merc's face, he could tell he was frowning. That, or gritting his teeth. Either way, the mood and the mask were enough the terrify him.

"I don't lie about rapists, Spidey," he growled. "That's not cool."

"Right! Right, sorry..." he blurted. "It's just... it's still not right!"

The merc crossed his arms and replied, "Uh, yeah. I know, kid. That's why I'm trying to stab him."

"No! That's not what I meant. It's not right to kill people. Even if they did bad things. People shouldn't condemn others to death." Almost as if it was an afterthought, he hissed, "What gave you the right?"

The mercenary stayed silent, white eyes squinting at him. Peter could picture him processing the information or maybe he was just staring at him incredulously. Not that it mattered. This situation was making his sweat.

"I'd say Death herself, but that's too meta, Yellow." Exasperated, Deadpool continued, "No, I won't do that. I'd be sinning if I shot an ass that great. Especially if it's underage. We don't do that."

Peter watched him as he continued to talk. He got the sense that none of it was addressed to him. It was weird, but he recalled Mr Stark mentioning something about how mentally unstable the mercenary was.

From behind him, the forgotten criminal piped up, “C—Can I go?”

“Zip it, Paul Bernardo!” Deadpool hissed. Then, finally, with a sigh, he added, "Y'know what? You can keep him, Spidey."

He waited for a punchline, some sort of hilarious comeback, but the mercenary made no move to grab one of his katanas or guns. Hell, he didn't look all that bothered by the certain turn of events.

Sputtering, Peter asked, "I—I can? Wait, what? That's it? You're not going to shoot me?"

Deadpool shrugged his shoulders. "I don't traumatize kids, and I sure as hell don't kill them. Besides, I get that we’re not best buddies yet. Can’t go around busting pedophiles."

"I'm not a kid," he retorted. "I'm a man. We've been over this. Also, what?"

The merc chuckled and replied, "Yeah, alright. Sure, baby boy."

He turned away began to head out the alleyway.

Shocked and confused, Peter shouted, "Wait! You're just going to leave? Just like that?"

Just as Deadpool turned the corner, he heard a sharp, "Yup!"

For a few seconds, he simply stood there, waiting for a gunshot or a spike in his spidey sense. But nothing happened.

He exhaled softly and turned to the alleged criminal. With little effort, he webbed him up and called up the police. Once they arrived, it had been fairly easy to get him to confess. Though he supposed the dark spot hovering by his crotch was enough indication as to why. Once the NYPD had the man in custody, Spider-Man bid them farewell and slung away.

As his body slipped into autopilot, he began to relive his encounter with Deadpool. The mercenary could have easily taken him out, he was sure of it. Peter was nowhere near as experienced as he wished he was and there was no way he could compete with someone who killed professionally. Someone who ho managed to get on the Avenger's radar.

He shivered one last time. Man, he wouldn't be getting any sleep that night.

 

* * *

 

The weekends were an honest blessing. Not only could he catch up on any school work he might have missed, but it also allowed him to lengthen his patrol time. Today, however, on an uneventful Saturday afternoon, Peter found himself surrounded by friends at a local diner. The pleasant buzz of chatter and clanging cutlery acted as a soft backdrop to his table’s conversations, which varied in topic due to tangents.

“You should try the fish n’ chips,” MJ perked up. “The fish is bitchin’.”

Harry, a new student who had joined their squad after arriving for a rocky junior year, gave her an odd look and asked, “What does that mean? Is that some hip vocab word?”

She made a gagging sound in the back of her throat and rolled her eyes. “Ew. You act like such an old man. But yeah, it is. It means cool… or something. I dunno.”

Ned waved his hands in an arch of a rainbow and chirped, “The more you know, with Michelle Jones.”

The group dissolved into laughter, which only seemed to grow after MJ wheezed another vine reference. Peter struggled to gather his breath from the banter that pursued, accidentally knocking into the gorgeous blond beside him. Gwen Stacy, another new student who had arrived with Harry just last year, played it off by laughing even harder.

“Keep your hands to yourself, Pete,” Harry teased. “You don’t want to have to get on top of the fridge again, do you?”

Peter flipped him off, earning himself another wave of joy. He loved them all dearly. From the dorky conversations to the stupid vine references. All of it made his chest ignite with warmth. Hopefully, they all stuck together after they graduated high school, which was only a few months away.

He glanced over at Gwen, who was jerking upright after MJ slammed her fist on the table in her fit of laughter. Harry and Gwen were great, even though they had both been wary of him when they had first arrived; however, all of their concerns had been fed by Flash and the fact that Peter was almost always falling asleep in class. All it took was a heart to heart conversation with both of them before they hit it off. Sure, neither of them knew of his Spidey secret, not as Ned and MJ did, but he wouldn't mind if they found out. Well, he would since his secret could get out to Harry's father, who was subsequently the owner of Oscorp Industries. Gwen's father wasn’t any better since he was a Captain of the NYPD and had some sort of bone to pick with him.

Sometimes, the urge was a bit hard to stifle. He really wished he could tell Gwen. Specifically her. She was interested in the same stuff he was. She was smart and talented in biochemistry. He was tempted to bring his web fluid to her and get an opinion on it. Maybe she would have mind-breaking solutions to any of his issues. She might even be able to replace Mr Stark’s positions as his designated helper with his discoveries and research. Probably not, but the thought counted.

But to be fair, trading ideas with Mr Stark was like trying to get a point across to a strict father. Then again, that also meant he gave the best praise where praise was due. And Peter thrived off of positive social situations. He was pretty sure Mr Stark knew that since the one time he had a panic attack in his suit Karen had begun some sort of calming protocol, and the genius philanthropist himself had arrived at his aid in a matter of minutes. He was seriously starting to act more like his father than a mentor. Which, if he had to be honest... was both the best and worst thing ever. For one, he had been a great support during his third year of high school, but it also didn't help that he insisted that his future was already secure. Nevertheless, twelfth grade was going far smoother.

"—eter? Peter? Pete!"

"Huh?" he tugged himself out of his thoughts, returning his attention to his friends.

As the sudden center of the conversation, he could see each of their faces obscured in concern. He offered them a sheepish smile as MJ proclaimed, "Jeez dude. Thought we lost you there."

"What? No, sorry. I was just..." he paused before grumbling, "daydreaming. I was just daydreaming."

Gwen frowned and placed a hand on his shoulder. "Are you alright? you sure you've been getting enough sleep?"

He jumped slightly at the contact, only to blush at her caution and his embarrassment. Way to go Pete. "Yeah, yeah. I'm fine. I've been going to bed early and everything."

She pulled her hand back with a nod, offering a small, "Oh. Oh, okay. Sorry."

"No! no, don't apologize! seriously, all I did was tune out—" his breath caught as his spidey sense flared up. Before disaster hit, all he could do was grab Gwen and pull her under the table with him, muscles clenched as a window shattered above them.

He heard screaming erupt around him the next second. Gwen was crouched beside him with wide, dazed eyes, probably shocked by all the information her brain was trying to sort. Peter was scrambling back to his feet once he ensured she was unharmed, intent on checking on the rest of his friends. Harry, MJ, and Ned were fine, although it looked like Ned had direct contact with some of the glass shards.

"Dude!" Peter exclaimed. "Are you alright?"

Harry had darted out of his seat the second he regained his wits and was getting on his knees to help Gwen. MJ flashed him a look as she began to tug Ned out of the seat and explained, "Someone threw a car through a window."

"Someone— what?" he spun around to eye the rest of the dinner, choking on his words as he spotted the car. It hadn't crashed into the kitchen, but it had wrecked a large portion of the seats and tables near the center of the room. Customers were rushing out the doors, hurrying past someone struggling to get out from under the car.

Peter launched himself in their direction, vaulting over an uprooted chair. He heard Harry cry his name, and offered a glance back in their direction. MJ was shoving Ned to him and slipping Gwen's arm over the back of her neck, telling him to get a move on. Harry hesitated but eventually gave in to the nagging and hurried out the dinner.

With a sigh of relief, he assessed the situation. The front of the car was being supported by a galled table, so it was on a slant. There wasn't enough space for the panicking girl to slip out of, but it did mean that his job would be easier. She was wriggling desperately, tears flowing down her face freely.

When she spotted him, she cried out, "Help me! please help, I don't wanna die!"

Peter reeled at her begging and quickly crouched down beside her, assuring her, "Don't worry. I'm going to help you."

He slipped his arms under the roof of the car that was trapping her body and exhaled harshly, preparing himself. The girl was still panicking, so it was unlikely that she would wonder why a scrawny boy in high school was able to lift a car, but he'd rather stay safe and paint some exaggerated motions then out himself. With a laboured but fake grunt, he held his breath to redden his face and added some pressure to the roof. He heard it shudder in protest as he slowly pushed up on it.

"Go!" he wheezed. "Quickly!"

The girl scraped her fingers on the ground as she pulled herself out from under the car. He let the car fall with a sigh of relief and helped her to her feet, rushing them both out of the restaurant.

Once they were safe, she pointed out to some boy in the crowd and hissed, "That's the douchebag that left me in there!"

Before he could respond, a black and red figure slammed into a streetlight on the sidewalk next to them. His breath caught in his throat. Shakily, he responded, "I—I've gotta go. But, uh, you should break up with him."

He quickly darted away, hurrying in the back alleyway. Peter tore through his shirt and shook off his pants, pulling his mask out from an inner pocket. After countless encounters with villains out-of-costume, he'd gotten used to just wearing his suit under his clothes. It saved time and effort.

He flicked his wrist and shot a web at the building, pulling himself up into his swing. It didn't take him very look to find the fight, as shots and crashes were echoing throughout the city. A flash of silver caught his attention, bringing him to the Rhino. And Deadpool.

Police were crouching behind their cars down the street, watching in amazement as Deadpool taunted the large Russian, dodging his attacks seamlessly. How could someone so bulky and large move that fast? He shook the thought out of his head. As he swung over the fight, he webbed Rhino, yanking himself down and slamming his feet into the back of his armoured head. The bulky villain stumbled forward due to the force of his kick, allowing Peter to ride on his momentum and backflip to safety. Unfortunately, that safety was beside Deadpool.

"Spidey!" he cried. "You came to my rescue!"

"I came because of Rhino," Peter retorted. "You just happened to be here."

The mercenary placed a hand over his heart and dramatized, "That was cold, webs. Especially after I stepped in to defeat this dude. I'll have you know that the only reason I'm here is because that big hunk of metal thought I was you."

He frowned and glanced over in his direction. He could kind of guess why. The black on Deadpool's suit could be mistaken for his blue, but the merc was so decked out in weaponry that it was almost unimaginable. Maybe that was why the Bugle was always after his head.

Before he could quip back, the Rhino roared and reached for another parked car, throwing it in their direction. Deadpool darted out of the way, taking the opportunity to unload a clip on him. Peter gritted his teeth and webbed the car, holding it back before it could crash into the police force behind them.

From there, the fight went surprisingly smoothly. Once Deadpool realized his guns had little effect on the thick polymer mat of Rhino's suit and switched to his katanas, all it took were a few clever blows and ideas to subdue him. The fact that he couldn't change directions during his charges helped. Deadpool had made use of his less than stellar intellect to make some incredibly cheesy jokes, some of which even made Peter stop and groan. All in all, once the thug was wrapped up in think webs, he found that he had actually enjoyed the fight. Deadpool's comedic timing made it a bit hard to not join in with his own jokes.

The two of them rushed off after the battle was won, slipping away into some alley. Peter desperately hoped his mask would keep his composure since the smile on his face was growing every second Deadpool continued to chortle over some stupid comment he had made.

The mercenary leaned against one of the alley walls and mused, "Jeez, Webs. If I knew we'd make such a kickass team I would have stayed in New York instead of high tailing it out of here when we met."

"Oh. Uh, thanks?" he offered awkwardly.

Deadpool nodded to himself and added, "We need to team up more."

Peter flinched at the idea, covering it with a quip. "I'd rather not if you continue to harm people. Or kill them."

He watched as the man processed his words before shrugging his shoulders. "That's reasonable."

"It is? I mean, yeah. It is. Of course, it is. You're not mad?"

"Naw. Why would I be? Still won't stop me from chasing dat ass, though."

A furious blush expanded across his face. Why didn't Mr Stark warn him that this dude was a merciless flirt? Peter waved his hand dismissively and grumbled, "Whatever. Just don't expect me to buddy up to you if I hear you've gone and terrorized my city."

"Ooo, possessive. Me likey," Deadpool cooed

Peter huffed and turned away from him. "Stay out of trouble, DP. I mean it." Before he could listen to some convoluted sentence Deadpool could come up with, he webbed a corner of a building and tugged himself up and away.

 

* * *

 

In the past few months, Peter had probably been the healthiest and happiest he'd ever been in his seventeen years of life. Never in his wildest dreams did he imagine that he'd get the opportunity to date Gwen Stacy. Well, he did dream about it a lot, so he supposed that phrase was incorrect. But the point remained. Gwen decided that he was good enough boyfriend material, and he had been over the moon about it.

Not even the day he got his 'internship' with Mr Stark could top his euphoria for his newly-founded relationship. Although it definitely came a close second. But other than that, Peter didn't really have many happy memories. Sure, the science fairs he won and the villains he defeated were moments he prided himself on, but they were accomplished through hard work and bruises, not pure pleasure.

To be fair though, not everything about their relationship had been smooth. The day they got together had been a bit of a mess. Peter had asked Gwen to Homecoming and she’d agreed enthusiastically, but someone ended up spiking the drinks. He’d been planning to ask her out after the dance ended, but Gwen ended up calling an Uber for the both of them. When they arrived at his house, Aunt May insisted that she stay over in a spare room and allowed her to put him in his bed. Unfortunately, Peter’s enhanced metabolism hadn’t kicked all the alcohol out of the system in time to stop Gwen from helping him out of his dress shirt, which meant that his blue and red secret had been uncovered.

If he had to be honest, though, he was actually fairly happy she figured out then. It meant that he didn’t have to worry about betraying her trust. And it was nice having someone other than MJ and Ned know about his alias; however, he also wished it hadn’t been as embarrassing as it had been. When his foggy mind had cleared, he panicked and she assured him that she’d keep his secret. But in his hysteria, he ended up confessing to her. Thankfully, she ended up feeling the same.

From then on, he’d been riding off on the jubilation. But there were a few things that weighed heavily on him since they’d gotten together. One of those things was their sex life. And the other was Deadpool.

They both seemed to loom over him, pestering him and making him second guess himself time and time again. It wasn’t like he didn’t want to be with Gwen, and he really didn’t mind the thought of sex. He was just… awkward. And he kept on getting incredibly humiliating thoughts of…

“Aw, c’mon man! I wasn’t actually going to pull the trig—” Spider-Man shot a wad of webbing at the mouth of the man attached to the alley wall, revelling in his groan of annoyance and the satisfying thwip.

He sighed softly and placed a hand on the wall behind him. “Hey, Karen? Can you call the police?”

“I already have,” The disembodied female voice of his AI responded. “Peter? Your cortisol levels are rising. Should I play some music?”

“No. No, it’s okay. I— uh, it’s just—” he paused before climbing up the wall. “I was thinking. How I usually do.”

He stepped onto the roof, listening as Karen responded, “I see. I’m always here if you need me, Peter.”

Bless Mr Stark and his knowledge of anxiety. The first time Karen had begun to respond and assist in his stress and trauma had resulted in tears of gratitude. The next day he had gone out with his mentor for coffee.

Spider-Man sat down on the edge and looked up at the sky, listening to the city around him. He could hear the drone of police echoing around Manhattan, but there was a lack of gunshots, screams, or crashes. Days like these got him to think, and thinking usually got him in trouble. Mainly with his head. And anxiety.

He felt the incredibly strong urge to run a hand through his hair.

“Heyo, Webs!”

He muffled his shaky exhale and looked back at Deadpool. The masked anti-hero was decked out in his usual attire and weapons. Surprisingly, the sight of them didn’t raise his anxiety levels.

“‘Pool,” he greeted solemnly. “I haven’t seen you around for a while.”

The man practically grinned (How did his mask do that? It was so incredibly creepy and fascinating. Maybe he had some sort of muscle recognizing system to help him express.) and walked over to plop down beside him. Now, Spider-Man took notice of the brown bag of grease he carried.

“Sorry, baby boy. I had a job to do. All that fun stuff. I heard a dude with a stingy tail tried to get at you.”

Deadpool reached into his bag and pulled out a burrito. He unwrapped the thin paper that concealed it and pulled up on his mask, revealing his chin. Peter found himself eyeing the scars that marred his exposed flesh. Did the rest of him look like that?

He must have stared for too long, because Deadpool chuckled humorlessly and grumbled, “Hideous, isn’t it? And to think I used to have blond hair.”

Peter frowned at the implication of his words. Was he being self-deprecating? He hadn’t expected that. The mercenary had always emanated an aura of danger and confidence. This behaviour was new, but he honestly didn’t mind it. It was… comforting to know that someone as large and intimidating as Deadpool could be vulnerable.

“I don’t think it’s hideous,” he replied. “I don't even think it looks bad. It’s just your skin. Besides, what really matters is the fact that your muscles are massive.”

Oh. Oh hell.

The heart monitor in the corner of his sight spiked and increased. He could feel a blush rise to his cheeks. Deadpool paused mid-bite and looked at him with an expression he scrambled to place. Was it disgust? Surprise?

Peter sputtered and rushed out, “U—uh. No, I meant— not that you’re… bad or… no that’s not. Sorry! It’s— I’m not— You’re—”

“Woah!” Deadpool raised one hand and chuckled. “Calm down there, Spidey. At least let me comment before you start panicking.”

The heat on his face picked up. “I wasn’t panicking! You just didn’t reply and I thought—”

“Thanks,” he interrupted. “And if you wanted to touch, you should have just asked. There's no way I’d say no.”

Peter groaned and placed his masked face in his hands. He had Gwen! Why in the world would he comment on a guy’s muscles? Gwen was gorgeous, perfect, and kind.

“Oi, you want a taco?”

He lifted his head and looked at the wrapped, greasy offering. He glanced up at the white eyes of the mercenary beside him.

“Sure.”

 

* * *

 

After a year full of team-ups with Spider-Man, he had to admit that a week of zero activity from the superhero was concerning. The dude was always swinging around in New York, rain or shine. In fact, unless he was hurt, Spidey never took a break. He always rushed his recovery, no matter how many times Wade warned him against it. The kid had a decent healing factor, but it wasn't nearly as strong as his. Which was concerning, since the kid was ridiculously selfless.

Plus, he missed their taco date. What sort of man didn't even bother to text an excuse for not showing up? Especially after Wade went through all the troubles of cutting down on his missions. Hell, he didn't even kill the villains who tried to go after Spidey's sweet ass! And that was saying a lot.

[Maybe he got tired of you,] White grumbled.

Deadpool frowned and replied, "Even if he did, he wouldn't abandon New York. He's not like that."

(Or maybe he finally got caught in his own web?) Yellow suggested.

"He's too flexible for that," he retorted.

[Then maybe he died.]

With a growl, he huffed, "That's not funny."

Before White could drag him into another crisis, the tell-tale thwip yanked his attention away. His eyes darted to the sky, catching the blue and red arachnid land on a nearby building. Without a second to waste, he sped for the roof, bounding up the fire escape. Once he made it to the top, he opened his mouth to yap a brilliant entry but paused at the scene in front of him.

Spider-Man sat near the edge. His body was curled in on itself, shoulders slumped into the knees tucked under his chin. It was... an odd scene. To see someone so powerful and cheerful as NYC's own Webhead suddenly so small and vulnerable...

"Hey Webs," he greeted.

A silence stretched between them. After a while, the arachnid hero shifted and mumbled, "Hey."

Deadpool took the response as his cue to get closer. He sat down beside him, kicking his legs out over the roof. The silence continued. Should he say something? It wasn't often that he had to keep quiet, but the situation seemed a bit too serious to be making stupid comments.

"You know, my life was going pretty good for a bit," he spoke suddenly. Deadpool glanced over at him but kept his silence. "After... after my uncle died... I made new friends, I became Spider-Man, and I even got a new father figure. I was suddenly able to test out all of my scientific theories and help other people all the while continuing my normal life. It was all going well. My two best friends and I stuck together for University. I got a scholarship thanks to the fact that I got the highest scholastic average in my high school's history. Not to brag, or anything… but my future was looking brighter than ever.

"I even... I even got a girlfriend." his voice cracked, pitifully choking on the last word. Hesitantly, Wade placed a hand on his shoulder. Spider-Man raised an arm, but instead of using it to push him away, he lifted the edge of his mask above his nose. Wade decided against telling him that his mouth was wet with snot, spit, and tears.

After a few shaky breaths and a couple of minutes to recollect himself, he continued, "Then one of my friends got addicted to drugs and the Green Goblin returned... he—" The sentence drooped. He shook his head and managed, "he— he took Gwen—" he cut himself off with a sob, shoving his head between his knees.

Ah. Wade could tell how this story was going to end. Before he could prod or come up with a way of consulting him, he found his breath hitching as Spider-Man suddenly plowed into his chest.

Holy fuck.

(We should go after this Green Goblin dude,) Yellow commented rather suddenly. (For making Spidey cry.)

White stayed silent.

"She was gorgeous, DP. The best thing that ever happened to me. But when he threw her off the bridge… her hair turned into a halo and she— she... I—I tried to save her. I really did. But I think I might have killed her. There was a crack and my webs must have- And then I think... no. No, I know that I killed the Goblin," he wailed.

Oh shit.

White chimed in with a, [Well that got dark.]

Cautiously, Wade encircled his arms around him, keeping him still as his body shook. Jesus Christ this kid had gone through some depressing shit. Or... was he a kid? He said he was in university.

(Thank fuck for that.)

[His girlfriend just died you dipshit.]

Wade exhaled softly and coaxed, "Just let it all out Spidey. It's not healthy to keep stuff like that buried."

Evidently, Spider-Man agreed, since he tightened his grip and cried harder, babbling specifics on what had happened. As it turned out, the Goblin had had some serious beef with him. He'd lured Spider-Man to the Brooklyn Bridge by taking his girlfriend. When they confronted each other, the girlfriend—who Wade had assumed was Gwen—proceeded to throw her off the bridge. Spidey had caught her, but something had gone wrong and she had she died. The week where he'd been absent had been spent grieving and tracking down the Goblin, only to accidentally kill him when his glider failed to hit Spidey and impaled him instead.

He wasn't sure how much time had passed by the time Spider-Man began to calm down, but the moon remained high in the sky. Wade looked down at the masked man in his arms, who was now a quiet, sniffling mess.

(I guess there's no point in hunting down the Goblin now, huh?)

[Unless you want us to go after a dead man, then no.]

(True... but jeez, Spidey's really cute. I think he grew a few inches from the first time we met him. And his ass has only gotten better.)

Wade sighed at his internal monologue, eye drifting to the city below. This moment felt oddly intimate and he wasn't too sure how to deal with it. How was one supposed to react when one of their idols broke down in front of them? The picture was impossible to paint, even with Spidey shivering against his chest.

"Peter."

Wade blinked and returned his attention to the hero. "Did you say something?"

"Peter," he repeated. Spider-Man pulled away from him slowly to straighten up, clarifying, "My name. It's Peter."

Even while he was in his mask, his open mouth must have been visible, since Spidey chuckled at his dumbstruck appearance. Wade forced his mouth closed and replied with a nervous chuckle, "Sorry, baby boy. I think I misheard you."

Spider-Man tilted his head in a move that he could only interpret as friendly and held his hand out. "You didn't. It's nice to meet you, Wade Wilson. My name is Peter Parker."

(Oh my fuck nuggets.)

[Huh. First and last name.]

(He called us by our actual name! If I could faint, I would have fainted.)

[Do you think he realizes that you're a dangerous mercenary?]

Stammering, Wade responded, "Y—you do know you just exposed your super secret identity to me... right, Webs?"

The hero chuckled weakly and murmured, "Yeah. I guess I did."

"You do realize I'm a mercenary, right?"

Spider-Man nodded his hand and said, "I've thought about it a lot. But, honestly DP? Someone who wanted to kill me wouldn't have spent an hour trying to console me. You've had so many chances to pull the trigger on me, or use Bea and Arthur to cut my head off."

(He knows their names! I'm going to cry!)

[You can't cry, Yellow.]

(The sentiment remains.)

"I'd rather if you didn't suggest that, baby boy," he commented sourly. "I'd never try to unalive you. If I wasn't going to hell already, then I'd definitely be on a beeline if I tried."

Peter seemed to be satisfied with his answer, since he hummed pleasantly and continued, "See? Mr Stark can't convince me otherwise. You're no more dangerous than a mouse."

"I resent that. Mice are ferocious."

With another tilt of his head, Peter admitted, "They can be pretty scary."

After a long pause, the two of them burst into childish giggles. For some inexplicable reason, a warmth that had been buried deep in his chest had suddenly resurfaced to the bright, hiccuping laughter from Peter Parker.

 

* * *

 

If someone from his past had come up to him and told him that he’d spend nearly everyday kicking ass with Spider-Man, he’d probably laugh in their face. Or shoot them in the face. It depended on who from his past had said it. But the point remained. It wasn’t something that he had thought possible. Sometimes he still woke up in awe of the fact that he got to see that Spidey ass every month. Hell, every week. Which turned into another year since he first revealed his identity.

The benefits that came from that fateful day were still growing. Slowly, Wade and Peter had become friends in and out of superheroing. They had late night Mario Kart sessions with pizza and Chinese takeout. Sometimes they even watched Golden Girls. The best part? It was usually at Peter’s place since Wade’s smelled like ass. And dead people. Which was fair, since he died there quite often. He actually started dying at Peter’s place too. That usually earned him an earful of freakouts and then orders to ‘Stop dying DP, it’s not good for you’.

He didn’t mind the kid’s badgering. Especially since he got his chances to badger him back. For some reason, Peter had a knack of forgetting to eat. Or forgoing food in hopes of finishing university work. It was ridiculous, especially since he refused to stop patrolling to make up for everything else. But no, he never did. Instead, they would end up fighting a bad guy and then Peter would get injured and wouldn’t heal because his metabolism required he consume more food than normal. And he wasn’t even hitting the normal human quota. So Wade may or may not have gone out of his way to grocery shop and ditch all of the food at Peter’s house.

[You’re basically like a dad who abandoned his kid but doesn’t want to pay child support]

(Can you imagine if Petey called us daddy?)

Yes. He could. He could vividly imagine it.

A harsh shout followed by the rumble of ruble disrupted him from his daydream. Suddenly, a rock slammed into his chest and exploded, sending him flying back into the debris. He ended up tumbling down a flight of stairs — Fuck! Ow! His ribs had definitely taken a hit — and onto a soft cushion, which responded to his landing with a soft grunt. He squinted at the light that poured in from the ruined rooftop exit and the settling dust that followed it. Behind him, he heard Spider-Man cough and grumble, “You could have totally avoided that if you’d been paying attention.”

“Sorry,” he replied cheerily. “I just got distracted by your ass.”

Peter sighed as Wade stood up, taking his hand when he offered it. “Still not a good excuse.”

“It should be, though. Can you imagine how many people you distract when you swing by because of that thing?”

“I think the fact that I’m swinging off of buildings is enough to catch attention, DP.”

Above them, on the roof they had been fighting on, he heard their villain shout, “I’d hurry up if I were you. It would be incredibly unfortunate if a building were to collapse because of your tardiness.”

Without another word, Spidey sprinted back up the stairs, leaving Deadpool in the dust. With a sigh, he followed the hero up, doing his best to totally not eye that magnificent bubble butt.

[Stop lying, it makes us look bad.]

(Yeah! It’s sin to not acknowledge that masterpiece. We’re paying our respects to God.)

Wade nodded his head in agreement, adding, “I wish I had been tossed back first. Then maybe he could have landed on my—”

“What did you mean by that, Plastique?” Peter growled.

He climbed the last time just in time to watch the villain smile and respond, “I have a grudge against America. My taxes and money are all going to the wrong people and the ones who live a pretty life have their cash all holed up in some safe. I worked my ass off as a mechanic, but I could only manage to scrape minimum wage. I want more. I want to be recognized, to gain infamy!”

(Ew, a monologue.)

[Another jab at the economy… nice.]

(Wait, but I thought the economy was better? Didn’t we make America great again?)

[Were you even here during 2017?]

Deadpool groaned and held a hand up. “Listen, dude. I’m all for hearing about villain spiels but get to the point. The author isn’t creative enough for this.”

The villain frowned at the comment. Then, a grin appeared. “Alright. I’ll cut to the chase. I’ve set a bomb in a building somewhere in Manhattan.”

(Oh shit.)

Spider-Man immediately tensed up and choked out, “You did what?” he stalked forward, continuing, “Where? When is it set to go off? Tell me!”

“Baby boy...” he cautioned in a low voice.

Smug with success, the villain chortled and exclaimed, “Now!”

Peter’s head snapped in a direction, milliseconds before a clap of thunder ripped through the city. He watched as the hero cringed, his arms jerking as if to cover his ears. His sensitive hearing must have suffered from that. From their position on the roof, they could see a cloud of smoke begin to climb.

In a flash, Spider-Man was sprinting off the edge, catching his fall with a web and lurching himself towards the explosion. Deadpool sighed and reached his hands back, unsheathing his swords. Spidey could take care of himself for a bit.

“I need to repay you for earlier,” he miffed. “You should know better than to throw eye-candy through walls, pumpkin fucker.”

(Are we going to kill him?)

[I don’t think Spider-Man would appreciate that.]

(Handicap him?)

“Just a little,” he agreed.

Before the villain could ask who he was talking to, Wade launched into an attack. He quickly came to realize that his villain he could only infuse objects with explosive capabilities from his hands.

Which, of course, meant that one of them had to come off. He wasn’t a monster, though. He left him with his right hand.

(But what if he’s left handed?)

[Oh well.]

The only thing the villain had going for him was his ability. Other than that, he had no combat skills and obviously couldn’t kill him, so the fight went fairly well. The only issue he came across was once the villain was defeated. He didn’t really have a way of tying him up, and he really didn’t want to wait for Peter to return. With a groan, he yanked out his phone, pacing in front of his knocked out opponent.

[Are you seriously calling who I think you’re calling?]

“Yeah, hey Coulson. I have a favour to cash in.” he stopped to stare into the distance, watching as the dark dust cloud continued to climb. With a rising sense of panic, he went on, “What? You totally owe me. You do! Not that it matters. I have this criminal dude he can explode stuff. I think you might want him.”

With an address given and a few more arguments served, Wade hung up and hurried out of the building. He needed to get to Peter, pronto. Being away from the hero meant that he could shield him from anything, which scared him more than he thought it would. With a quick call for Dopinder, his trusty cabby, they were flying through the shitty streets of New York.

As they got closer to the site of the bomb, the traffic got worse. He ended up offering some quick advice about relationships before jumping out of the taxi impatiently and sprinting down the sidewalk. The building was definitely recognizable. It’s beige walls, a plethora of windows, and large printed sign gave it away as the Daily Bugle. Jeez, at least the villain dude made a good choice in buildings.

[Don’t let Spidey hear you say that.]

(Yeah! I like having a face, even if it’s fucked up.)

The building had certainly seen better days. All in all, it looked as though it was about to come down. A good chunk of its lobby had been blown away, and ruble seemed to be falling off the supports every second.

There was a crowd outside of the building and news vans were already in place to film the entire thing — how ironic, other news stations profiting off of another — but two police cars were blocking the way forward. He pushed through, offering, “I’m sorry,” and “excuse me,” and “is Michael Bay somewhere here? This looks like one of his movie sets.”

Just as he was about to push into a building, a policeman placed a hand on his chest and said, “Sorry, you’re not allowed— Oh. Spider-Man? But I thought—”

(We literally look nothing alike. We have fucking swords.)

[It’s probably just the red.]

(But we’re also taller. And we don’t have web designs anywhere.)

“You’d be amazed by how many times I’ve gotten that,” he replied civilly. “Now if you wouldn’t mind—”

Above them, a window shattered, raining down glass on the crowd of civilians. Cries of shock, surprise, and joy erupted as Spider-Man swung out the window with a woman tucked under his arm. He landed in front of the police line with a spring in his step, carefully placing the brunette with a small strand of dyed purple hair on her feet.

“Are you alright?” he heard him whisper.

The girl, probably shell-shocked, simply nodded her head. Then, with a shake of her head, she murmured, “Yeah. Yeah, I’m good. Thank you...”

(Oh no. Is that his girlfriend?)

[I think he’s a bit too sore after his last one to get another.]

(Yikes, White. Don’t make it sound so clinical. Maybe he just wanted pussy.)

“Spidey!” Wade exclaimed, jumping out of the crowd. The police sputtered, grabbing onto his shoulder to yank him back, but stopped when he got a full look at his outfit. Yeah, the katanas were intimidating. Plus, he had a couple of inches on the guy and his suit really didn’t help in hiding his muscles.

Spider-Man looked over at him, seemingly about to speak but paused unexpectedly in favour of staring at the building again. Deadpool watched as his muscles tensed beneath the suit and then, after a moment that must have been intensive thinking, he webbed the nearest building and sprung away. Deadpool sputtered and swore under his breath, pushing his way past the policeman and running after him, down an alley.

“Webs!” he shouted. “Where the hell do you think you’re going?”

Sticking to the opposite building, Spider-Man looked down at him and explained, “I heard someone inside.”

“You—” Before he could finish, the boy webbed the collapsing building and swung himself feet first into a window, shattering the glass. Wade swore aggressively to himself and hurried back to the front of the building, eyeing the supports wearily. If the building fell, he wouldn’t be able to stop it.

Slowly, Yellow lamented, (We should have gone inside instead. At least we can’t die.)

[Can’t do anything about it now. Besides, it’s Spider-Man. He wouldn't nod and agree.]

Damn him and his sacrificial lifestyle. He was going to die sooner than he should at this rate. His head darted up as a rumble shook the building. Just as his worry peaked and he started moving towards the entrance, intent on diving inside and searching for Spidey, he was struck motionless with relief when the spandex-clad hero appeared in the lobby with a child in his arms.

He couldn’t recall the last time he’d exhaled so drastically.

He really should have expected the collapsing ceiling.

There was a sudden rumbling warning which had Deadpool choking on his breath and sprinting towards them. Spider-Man offered one look up at the ceiling before springing into action. Just as he made it to the opening, the supports began to give in and collapse in on itself, he tossed the kid straight into his arms, sending him stumbling onto his butt. Wade cried out in alarm, chest pinching as Spider-Man disappeared under the rubble.

Silence spread across the previously buzzing crowd.

Quickly, he placed the child down and charged into the rising cloud of dust, waving his hand in front of him frantically. “Spidey! Spidey, damn it!”

(Oh shit balls. Fuck, fuck, fuck.)

[Huh. Should have known he’d end up dying soon. I mean, that is what tends to happen when people get close to us.]

He whimpered and screamed, “PETER!”

Beside him, a pile of rubble quivered and heaved. He hurried over and clawed at the stone, throwing it away wildly. He heard a soft sob and jammed the ball of his boot-clad foot into the large debris. Finally, he caught sight of the red and blue. He reached for his armpits and pulled him into his chest. His suit was torn in multiple areas and his mask exposed half of his face, revealing his tear-stained cheeks. Blood seeped through the cracks, staining the debris and Deadpool’s already red clothes.

“Peter,” he whispered. “Are you— are you—”

The hero quivered and coughed, hacking up the dust and dry in his throat. “My back,” he blubbered hoarsely. A sob clogged his throat as he cried, “My back, it hurts. It hurts so—so much. And there’s… there’s a numbing—”

Wade’s hand fluttered over the suit until he spotted the alarming sight of stone protruding from the small of his back. He stifled a cry of alarm.

[That’s not healthy.]

“It’s okay Spidey. It’s alright. We’re just…” He eyed the area. Thankfully, the dust was doing enough to cover them, but he could still see silhouettes and it was settling quickly. “I’m going to move you, okay? I gotta get you out of here.”

Peter nodded his head stiffly. Wade slipped an arm under his shoulders and the other under his knees. The boy slammed his head against Wade’s chest and cried a wail of pain. If he hadn’t just spent all that time keeping the debris from crushing him, he probably would have shattered any bones present in the area of his attack.

He carried him away, stumbling over the rocks. He slipped past a wall that had managed to stay upright, landing him in a corner of the fallen building. Carefully, he placed Peter down, rushing out apologies as his sobs increased. The cover the building provided would be enough to let him think out a plan. He didn't want to leave that shard in his side. It could slip into his bloodstream and land him into a coma or flat out kill him.

He yanked his phone out, scrolling through his contacts.

[You can’t call Dopinder, he’s probably still stuck in traffic. Kinda douchey of you to do.]

“Shut up,” he growled. “I did it for Peter.”

[Too bad it didn’t do much. He’s probably already dead.]

Wade quickly pulled his glove off and placed his fingers against his carotid artery. He was still fine.

“He was fine,” he repeated out loud.

[Not for long. How mortal can Spidey be?]

Peter cracked his eyes open. He let out a breath of relief. He opened his mouth to reassure him, but Peter croaked, “Wade. You have to take it out.”

He blanked and replied, “I can’t do that. You’ll bleed out.”

“The stone is gonna— it’s gonna get into my blood— I don’t wanna have it in my blood!”

Wade bit his lip. He didn’t know enough about stuff like this. He knew about knife wounds and everything else the Special Forces had droned on about, but this was stuff that hospitals dealt with. If only he had someone to call or something to staunch the bleeding.

“It’s okay, baby boy. Nothing is going to get in your blood.”

“Call—” Peter hacked and forced out, “Call Mr Stark. Tony Stark.”

Right, his mentor. He’d help him. But, “Petey, I don’t have his num—”

The superhero made a sound of frustration. “Karen is down… I— I have his number. It’s uh. It’s… I have my phone…”

With directions, Wade had been able to find the phone. It had been strapped in some secret pocket, which had thankfully been unharmed. He clicked on his contact, trying to ignore the fact that Peter’s nickname for him was ‘Mr Dad’.

It should be illegal for this kid to get this close to death.

The phone stopped ringing to the tired, but concerned voice of Tony Stark. “Kid? What’s wrong? If you’re not texting—”

“Heyo, Tincan. I have a bit of an issue here.”

A few seconds of silence passed. Wade pulled the phone back to see if he’d hung up with a sense of dread but quickly returned the phone to his ear when he heard a cry of, “WHAT? Deadpool? Is that you? Why the fuck do you have—”

“He’s injured. He’s hurt badly and he has a fucking rock in his back.”

“He has a rock in his back?” he hissed aggressively. “What did you do? Let me talk to him.”

Wade looked down at Peter, who was struggling to keep his fluttering eyes open. “Sorry, but I can’t do that. You need to tell me how to… what to do.”

There was a short pause before Tony asked, “Where is it? The rock? Where did it enter?”

He held the phone down and gently placed a hand on Peter’s shoulder. “Can you shift a bit?” He nodded his head and turned his body a bit. Wade analyzed the area before reporting, “It’s the small of his back. Not in the center, but rather on the side.”

There was the sound of clanging and metal on the phone when Tony continued, “Does it look like it hit an organ?”

“No. Well, it’s near his colon.”

“Ascending?”

He hesitated. All those shots to his brain had seriously damaged his memory. “Yeah… yeah. I think so. It’s the one on the side. His… right side from the back.”

“Then it’s the ascending colon.” There was a pause before he asked, “Did it hit? Or...”

“I don’t know how deep it is...”

“Okay… okay. I’ll be there in a bit. Do not take it out.”

The phone call promptly ended. Wade placed it down and rested a hand on Peter’s shoulder. “Are you hanging in there?”

There was a moment of no response. Even though his eyes were open, they were freakishly dilated.

(He ded.)

Peter coughed and grumbled something before grunting, “Sorta. I’m just… It’s kinda hard to breathe and I think my body is healing my ribs right now. Can you help me move?”

“Yeah!” At Peter’s wince, he lowered his voice and continued, “Of course. Yeah, I can do that. How do you want to lay?”

“Stomach.”

Wade eyed the dusty, rocky ground.

(That’s a rough surface to put a soft face on.)

It was. He sighed and grabbed his mask. “Petey, if you don’t want to be more disturbed, I suggest turning away.”

Ignoring his advice, the hero looked over at him with more attentiveness than what he’d displayed earlier. Of course. The kid was too curious. He closed his eyes and ripped the fabric off. Sounds of the chaotic city intensified around them.

“Oh,” Peter breathed.

Wade tensed up and looked down. “Told you.”

“I mean… it’s not that bad.”

(Wait.)

[What?]

He hadn’t even sounded sarcastic. Or hesitant. Slowly, he opened his eyes and looked up. Peter was staring at him with a tilted head.

“I was expecting a grizzled old man with half of his head missing, or something. This isn’t even one-fiftieth of that.”

Still processing the fact that there was no trace of disgust on his face, he rambled, “You wouldn’t like Old Man Deadpool, then. Well, actually, you would. Or you will. Or—”

“Wade. My back.”

“Oh! Right!” He placed his mask on the ground and helped him onto his stomach, whispering an apology when Peter grunted.

Fear wasn’t something that Wade experienced often. He’d have the occasional slap — (More like punch) — of depression, but nothing that made him want to tear up. Well, sometimes he managed a tear, but he was usually dead by then. But now, as he stared at the stuttering chest of the fluffy head of dust-matted brown hair, he was pretty sure he was fearful. The fact that Spider-Man could die was a horrifying thought. What was even scarier, was the fact that a young boy bared the mask and had the most selfless personality he’d ever seen.

Thankfully, It took barely five minutes before the tell-tale explosion of Tony’s propulsors reached them. Wade found himself suddenly eternally grateful for the scientist’s existence. He definitely owed the man a favour. The second Tony found them huddled in the corner of two walls that hadn’t collapsed, he touched down and rushed over to Peter.

“Kid!” He fell to his knees, facepiece sliding up. “Talk to me, Pe— Spider-Man.”

Peter exhaled shakily and puffed, “I’m not dying. I’m just in excruciating pain because my wound is trying to shove the huge rock out and can’t. Bullets are much easier.”

Wade made a secret vow to ask him what the fuck he meant by that. He had a hunch, but the hunch made him angry.

Tony eyed the rock sticking out of his side and said, “I’m not taking any risks. I’m taking you to the facility. Like hell am I letting you die on my watch.”

“I’m not under your watch anymore,” he whined. “I’m 20, not 16.”

Wade watching the man lift Peter up effortlessly. The boy continued to whine and complain, grumbling futilely about being an adult. The suit probably made it so that he could carry more weight, but he knew from experience that the kid weighed like nothing. It was a bit ridiculous, considering he could probably throw both of them into a wall at the same time.

Just before Tony could launch off, Peter said, “Thank you, DP. Seriously. I’m hella claustrophobic.”

Tony hesitated and looked over at Wade. He smiled and nodded his head, replying, “No problemo, baby boy.”

The scientist snorted and kicked off after that, taking his ward away.

 

* * *

 

There had been very few occasions in which Deadpool shed his mask. He knew the man was self-conscious about his skin and wore his tactical red and black suit to hide it. He took the suit off so rarely that not only could he count the moments he’d seen his face on a single hand, but his suit almost always smelled. But Peter, being the good Samaritan he was, never pushed for him to unmask. Although, he did insist on washing the suit for him a few times.

The first time he’d seen his face, which had been a year ago, he’d expected worse. Maybe a permanently unhinged jaw or a missing eye. The baldness and scars were a definite better alternative to all the gruesome thoughts in his head, so he really couldn’t care less about his skin.

So perhaps that was the reason for the tingles of excitement running down his back.

The two of them found themselves standing in front of a middle-class house, both of them in their civvies. He could feel Wade’s nervousness from where he stood. The man kept wringing his hand through his pocket and his hoodie was pulled up and tightened by strings. The only visible skin he could see was his nose, which was defined by the light from the house.

A couple of minutes ticked by in anxious silence. Slowly, Peter murmured, “Wade?”

The man jumped in surprise, looking over in his direction. Peter smiled at him, pleased that he could see his face. Wade seemed to realize the same thing and looked away once again, staring down at the pavement.

With a choke, he croaked, “This was a bad idea. I shouldn’t have— I don’t want to drag you somewhere you don’t wanna be, Petey.”

Quickly, Peter went to his side and placed a hand on his bicep. “Stop that. It wasn’t a bad idea. I’m not going to judge you or insult you or harm you.”

He watched as Wade digested the information slowly. Before he could come up with a response, a car passed behind them, billowing their clothes and ripping his hoodie from off his head. WIth a panicked squeak, he yanked his hand out of his pocket and reached to pull it back up, but paused when Peter placed his hand over his.

The feel of his rough and uneven skin didn’t faze the look that he hoped was pure acceptance on his face. Wade swallowed harshly, staring at their hands. With a shaky breath, he lowered his hand and murmured, “Alright. Let's do this.”

They crossed the pavement to the door quickly, swinging their laced hands to shake off their mixed anxiety. They hesitate at the door and Peter began to think that Wade would give up and walk away. Yet, with another uneven inhale, he ended up pressing the doorbell. He smiled and squeezed his hand comfortingly.

Then, the door opened. A beautiful dark haired girl stood before them, bathed in the warm light from their house. She smiled when she took note at who was at the door and threw herself at Wade. He laughed and released Peter’s hand so that he could hold her.

“Hey there, Ellie,” he chuckled. A man with a black afro appeared at the door and motioned for them to enter. As they stepped in, Wade added, “Did you really miss me this much? I think I’m losing blood circulation.”

She giggled joyfully and wriggled in his grasp. He set her down and held a hand out to shake the afro man’s hand.

“Of course I did!” she replied. Ellie looked over at Peter and grinned, going in for a hug. “Hey, Peter. Have you been taking care of him?”

Ignoring the indignant squawk Wade made, he nodded his head and crouched down, mock whispering, “I have, but he’s such a handful.”

“Petey!” Wade cried. ”How could you?”

He smirked and straightened, retorting, “How could I not?”

Wade crossed his arms and scoffed, “Rude.”

They had a good laugh after that. Ellie led Peter into the living room, leaving Wade to talk quick pleasantries with the man while they plopped onto the couch. A woman slipped beside them to add her own words to the conversation.

After a few minutes of listening to Ellie rave about the darker side of Disney, the woman exclaimed, “Alright! Ellie, be a good girl. We’ll be back by midnight. You better be asleep by then.”

She jumped off of the couch and slammed into the woman, wrapping her arms around her. When she pulled away, she said, “Okay, mami. Bring me back some calamari.”

Wade and Ellie shut the door before making their way back to Peter. He made a face at Ellie and poked her side. “Ew. Octopuses.”

“Calamari is fried squid,” Ellie retorted. “Have you ever tried it before? It’s really good.”

“I have. It was at some sketchy restaurant in Queens my aunt took me to. I’ve never gotten so much food poisoning before.”

“Bet you I’ve gotten worse,” Wade quipped. He sat down beside Peter, motioning to the TV. “What do you wanna watch, kid?”

Ellie moved up to the self of movie disks and pulled out a colourful DVD package. She displayed it to them, waving it around dramatically. “Beauty and the Beast. Even though it’s literally Stockholm syndrome, it’s romantic. Well… cute. No, wait, that doesn’t sound good either…”

“It’s also bestiality, but no one gives a shit. How furry do you think his dick—” Peter slapped Wade’s bicep with a little more force than necessary, felling amusement rise in him at his cry. “Ow, Pete! What was that for?”

“Language. And dirty jokes,” he answered.

Wade pouted and crossed his arms. “But I make those jokes all the time.”

“I think they’re funny!” Ellie interjected. “Dad has the weirdest curses.”

Peter smiled and nodded his head. The opening scene of the movie began to roll. Ellie flicked off the lights and sat down beside him. He let a few seconds of silence flow before leaning over and whispering in her ear, “Twat waffle bullshit.”

She snorted and laughed, retorting, “Cock tacos.”

“Ya freakin’ hoser.”

“What in the name of Ryan Reynolds.”

“Nuthuggers.”

“Jesus fucking maple tits!” Wade shouted. “Bell is trying to sing, god damn!”

They giggled and returned their attention to the movie. About halfway through, Wade called up a Chinese place and ordered takeout. At some point, his hood had cascaded down, but he made no move to pull it back up. By the time the food arrived, the climax of the film was on its highrise and they paused briefly so that Wade could charge to the door, toss a hundred bucks at the delivery boy, and return to the couch. They chowed down and moved onto board games. Ellie dominated the beginning of the game, but by the time ten o’clock came around, she started to lose her energy.

Peter placed his chin on his propped up hand, waving a card in his hand with a smirk. “Last card.”

“Damn it, Petey. You’ve gotta be cheating,” Wade complained. “There’s no way you could possibly be this good at crazy eights. It’s literally all luck.”

He snorted and watched him pick up a card. “Maybe whoever is up there just decided to give me a break. Plus, it’s not just luck. There’s a strategy.”

“Very little,” Ellie mumbled. She yawned and slapped down a card.

Peter glanced over at Wade and commented, “Maybe it's time for you to go to bed.”

She blinked and shook her head. “No! I’m good. I just wanted to yawn.”

Amused, Wade added, “You placed down a wrong card.”

She picked up her card and looked down at the last one set. She blushed and sighed, “Yeah. Okay, I am a bit tired.”

Wade tossed down all his cards and stood up. “Alright. Pete, could you clean up this mess? I’ll be right back.”

He nodded his head as Ellie followed him to her feet. “Sure, no prob.”

The two of them headed up the stairs. He heard Ellie complain and beg for a free ride up. Peter didn’t hear or see a response, but he could easily assume that Wade gave in. He chuckled softly and cleaned up the strewn board games. He tossed the boxes of Chinese food in the trash and cleaned up the utensils. When he entered the living room, he spotted Wade lying on the couch.

“Did she tire you out?” he asked quietly, wary of the thought that he could be asleep.

Wade opened up his eyes and smiled sheepishly. Peter walked over to him and sat down on the slim piece of the couch available by his legs. “Sort of. Kids are a lot to deal with. If I still had my hair, I’d probably be losing a hundred strands a day.”

“You already would be losing that much either way,” he replied. “But I think you look good without hair. You just… look good.”

The skin around Wade’s clear eyebrow raised. He lifted himself up a bit and asked, “Did you just flirt with me?”

Peter sputtered and looked down, wringing his hands together. Damn him and his unfiltered mouth. “I— uh. Maybe? No, wait… yes? I mean, well I guess it was, but it wasn’t like— I— I dunno. Um, but to be _fair_ —”

Wade chuckled and interrupted, “Calm down Pete. I was just kidding.”

For some reason, that didn’t make him feel any better. He bit his lip and whispered, “Oh. Okay. I— yeah...”

A moment of silence passed them before Wade tentatively placed a hand on his shoulder. Peter looked up at him hesitantly, unprepared for the look of vulnerability on his face. “Were you being serious? I didn’t mean to shut you down.”

“I— It’s… I just don’t like it when you put yourself down,” he confessed. “I don’t think you’re ugly. I’m not bothered by your skin. I think you’re handsome.”

Wade pulled his hand back and turned his eyes away. “Pete—”

He reached forward and grabbed his face, forcing their eyes to meet. “I’m being serious. I don’t know why you’d think you’re anything less than hot. I don’t care about the skin, Wade. Your skin isn’t you. It doesn’t define you. You shouldn’t be ashamed of your scars. You should be proud of what you have and flaunt it. Like your eyes. You have the brightest eyes I’ve ever seen. You shouldn’t cover them up behind a hood.”

Wade raised a hand to cover one of his. With a dry swallow, he managed to murmur, “My eyes are nothing compared to yours. You have the cutest fucking brown doe eyes. And your hair is so fluffy and adorable. It’s literally so soft.”

Peter’s eyes flickered down. Would he really pursue those dangerous thoughts of his? Could he? His body acted on its own. His mouth landed against the coarse material of his lips. He felt Wade tense up and relax just as quickly. He reached a hand up to his hair, tugging on it softly and he brought him closer. Fireworks exploded behind his eyelids, igniting a jittery joy through his body. He sighed softly against him.

Their kiss was soft but quickly climbed to a level of hunger. Wade slipped a hand behind his back and coaxed him onto his lap. Why did he wait so long for this? He shivered as one hand combed through his hair and the other kneaded the skin on his back. When he pulled back, Peter found himself following after his lips, pursuing the continuation of their kiss.

“Holy Ratatouille,” Wade breathed.

Peter opened the eyes he didn’t recall closing, searching his face. He smiled at the look of awe, “Yeah,” he murmured in agreement.

“I can’t believe we waited that long for that.”

“I— yeah.” He looked down at his chest and rolled his hips to pull himself off. He flushed at Wade’s groan and scrambled to jump up, but Wade grabbed his arm and pulled him down. The large man tilted his position on the couch and helped him settle down with his back against his chest. They settled into a comfortable silence, staring at the blank TV.

“So… boys love boys and girls?”

Peter furrowed his eyebrows and looked back at him. “What?”

Wade gaped, “Panic! at the Disco? I’m disappointed, baby boy. It’s a bi joke.”

Oh, god. His sexuality. He’d never really placed a name on his sexual attraction. He liked girls and he’d never not liked boys. The only boy he’d ever really liked was Wade. Well, that wasn’t exactly true. He did have a stupid crush on Harry and once he had had an embarrassingly steamy dream about Flash.

Wade shifted behind him and grumbled, “Please don’t tell me you’re thinking this much about a bi joke.”

“What? Oh, no. Well, I guess.” He hesitated before further explaining, “I just… I’ve never really put a name to it. Am I bi?”

“Pete, I honestly could care less what you’re attracted to, just as long as I’m in that list.”

He placed his face in his hands and shook his head, hiding the small smile on his face. “Wade, my face is going to burn off.”

“Then I must be doing something right.”

Peter lowered his hands with a snort and a roll of his eyes. “I think you’ve been doing the right thing for a while now. You’ve stopped… merking.”

Wade bit out a laugh. “Baby boy, that's fucking hilarious.”

“No, shut up,” he ordered, slapping his arm. He turned around to face him and enforced, “I’m serious. You’ve stopped killing and you’ve stopped going on those jobs of yours. I’m… I’m really proud of you, Wade.”

Comically, Peter watched as his eyes widened. He opened his mouth as if to comment but cut himself off as if considering something, nodding along to an invisible voice.

“Never thought I’d get such a high compliment from Spider-Man himself,” he mused. “Does this mean I’m Captain America worthy?”

“Well, he is a criminal right now...”

“We all know the real criminal is the government.”

Peter hummed in acknowledgement and asked, “So would you have been on Cap’s side? During the battle?”

“Hell yeah. There’s no way I’d willingly slave to the public or the government’s wants. I’m motherfucking Deadpool.” He paused before adding, “But since you were on Tin Can’s side...”

“Imagine if that was how we first met. That would have been wild.”

“I might have also killed you,” he grumbled. “I think it was a good thing I was still apart of Fox. And R-rated.”

He ignored the last part of his statement and retaliated, “The first night we met you didn’t kill me.”

“I threatened you,” Wade reminded dryly.

“But you didn’t kill me. You were too worried about the children.”

“The chil— oh. That was after J.J. Jameson stopped tarnishing your reputation and started bolstering your popularity. That guy was a jackass but he’s also the only reason I knew of you. That and the fact that you were supposedly an Avenger.”

“Yeah, I have Mr Stark to thank for that… wait. Avenger?”

With an amused grin, Wade supplied, “I have my contacts, honeycup.”

“That’s… well, it’s not that concerning. Not anymore.” Especially not after that kiss. He placed a hand on his chest and asked, “Did you know that Mr Stark warned me about you?”

He shrugged his shoulders and replied, “I wouldn’t be surprised. I’m not exactly a prime partner material.”

“Hmm. You know what’s funny? The first time he mentioned you was more as a warning. Then, like… two or something years later, after he saw a Newsline of us teaming up, he began to enforce it.”

“Really? What did he do?”

“Oh, lots of things,” Peter reminisced. “He programmed Karen to warn me against you, but I got rid of the code. Then he threatened to take the suit away. Once, he even threatened to ground me. I kept on reminding him that I was an adult at that point. He’s such a nagging mom.”

When he faded out of his memories, his eyes landed on Wade’s fond expression. His face flushed once more.

“You must really appreciate him, huh?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I do. I’ve actually been going over to his lab whenever possible.”

Wade raised an eyebrow and asked, “Why don’t you just work for him, then?”

He hesitated and shrugged his shoulders. “I… uhm. I’m actually working for someone else.”

“What? But tin can must have offered you a position, right? He would be fucking dumb not to. My baby boy is nothing short of a genius.”

Peter flushed and directed his eyesight to the sight. How could Wade call him _his_ so casually?

“He offered,” Peter assured him. “It’s just… I dunno. Doctor Octavius is a really good dude. He’s trying to make prosthetics to help people who have lost limbs and… he’s just so passionate about it. I guess he inspired me or something.”

Wade was silent for a beat before grumbling, “I might be the reason to some of those delimbings.”

He cringed at the suggestion. That wasn’t something he wanted to talk about. Quickly, he jumped back into the conversation. “Yeah, well… anyway. I go to Mr Stark’s lab to work on new suits and stuff.”

Seemingly grateful for the new topic, Wade whistled lowly. “Damn. What’s new?”

“Well, helped me build another suit. I finished it like… a week ago. I did most of the work though. It’s really not as hard as I thought it would be.”

“What?” Wade gasped. “And you didn’t tell me? You have to show it to me!”

Peter chuckled, “Okay! I will. I’ll take it out for a test tomorrow.”

“You better, I’m dying to see if this new suit will make your ass look as good as it does in your current one.”

“Wade!”

 

* * *

  

As a 21-year-old struggling with basically everything, Peter Parker was stressed. He studied at a good university, but a chemical engineering degree was no piece of cake. His social life was nonexistent. He didn’t check in as often as he wished with Ned, and MJ was working hard as a reporter, indirectly trying to clear Spider-Man’s name from J. Jonah Jameson as possible. The only person he had repetitive exposure to, was the perky ex-merc that he shared an apartment with. Wade insisted it was totally not because Peter would literally drown under bills, but he knew better. He tried to be grateful and not bring it up, mostly because their relationship was slightly strained from the two weeks they spent ignoring their shared kiss.

He wasn’t concerned over his sexuality, that wasn’t the issue. He definitely liked both girls and boys; he just wasn’t sure whether that extended to other genders. The issue was that he couldn’t find out, because his damned eyes were set solely on Wade. On his frustratingly broad shoulders and massive biceps. Then again, could anyone blame him? The way Wade’s lips were almost constantly quirked up in amusement sent shocks that not even Electro could replicate. When he furrowed his brows to accentuate a look of confusion, the skin on his forehead and glabella pulled tightly on his scars in a way that shouldn’t be as cute as it was. The fact that people thought Wade was ugly were clearly blind to peak physique and sharp facial features.

Besides university and his suffering love life, he also had a job. It didn’t pay much, but it allowed him to help people like Peter. Just Peter. Granted, he couldn’t go out and pull people out of exploding cars. It was indirect, through the use of prosthetics. Tony had tried to offer him an actual internship at Stark Industries, but the second he had met Doctor Octavius, he knew that he just had to work with him. Working at Stark Industries had been a wet dream of his as a kid — and if he had to be honest, it still was. Yet, the Doctor was so enthusiastic and passionate about his work, Peter had found himself inspired.

His alter ego had different issues. Not only had the Rhino managed to get loose, but he had pulled the Vulture back in — who had been angry that his family was disowning him — and brought a new villain with him, the Hobgoblin. Unfortunately for Spider-Man, the green man on a floating board had a sickening resemblance to Norman Osborn, the Green Goblin, and brought old wounds back.

Add all the work required for his degree, his job with Octavius, and the fact that he had a needy roomie — who has also neglected to bring up the kiss — and an equally needy New York, he had zero time for anything.

“Petey!” Wade whined. “Are you sure you don’t want me to come with you?”

Peter pulled his mask down and shook his head. “I took a break from my internship for myself. I’ve spent my time studying and fucking around. Now, I just wanna get a breath of fresh air.”

The man grumbled under his breath but sighed, “I get it. Don’t want this ugly mug around.”

“Wade—”

“I’m jus’ fuckin’ around. You wanna be a young woman again, I get it.”

"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I just—"

Wade exhaled heavily and stood up from his slumped position on the couch. "Pete," he repeated. "I was kidding. Go."

He nodded his head and pushed the window up, making a mental note to drop by their favourite Mexican restaurant to pick up tacos and burritos once he was done with patrol. Wade deserved that.

 

* * *

 

Obviously, Peter had many questions. He hadn’t seen Harry since he departed for Europe after his father died, so was a little hurt that he hadn’t contacted him. Especially since Otto Octavius was apparently out for his ass. And currently had him in custody.

The prosthetics that he had worked so hard to improve upon, were used to toss him around like a rag doll. This patrol was supposed to help him take his mind off things, not flip his entire life upside down. Yet, there he lied, curled up on the floor, taking the defeat without much option and watching as his oldest best friend get picked up and carried through a massive hole in the ceiling.

Life sucked.

He wanted to ask Harry if he hated him. Why else wouldn't he tell Peter he had returned? He knew Harry hated Spider-Man, but as far as he knew, Peter was just Peter and no connection to the menace that killed his father. He just wanted a real talk with his friend. He wanted to scream and cry and wail.

Seconds of silent defeat turned into minutes. The large room was so… empty. Then, an angry scream ripped out of his throat. To think that the one good thing Peter Park had accomplished was the thing to take Spider-Man was too painful a thought. The man he had looked up to was now some fucking villain. His cry was cut off by a pathetic secession of coughs. With pulsating rage thrumming through his body, he pushed himself hastily, nearly falling over as he got to his feet. Pain rippled through his body, tearing through muscles he hadn’t even known existed.

There was no way in hell he could defeat Otto. He had wiped the floor with him. Literally. Even his new suit, which he had made specifically to aid him with bigger villains, hadn’t done much to help him. The hard white armour bits had given way to those metal claws, leaving portions of his skin out in the open.

He tilted his head up and forced himself to breathe and think.

A spandex suit, no matter the amount of carbon fibre, wouldn’t be enough to stop someone with four metal arms. No amount of intricate engineering would change that. He took a quick moment to swallow harshly before shooting out his webs and darting out of the opening left in the ceiling.

“Karen,” he choked out. “Call Mr Stark.”

Ringing filled his ear. He soared over New York, trying to ignore the pain in his body as it strained to connect webbing to buildings and not let go. Perhaps he should have asked Wade to come with him. He would probably have been too distracted by the kiss, though. God damn. He was already out of high school, why couldn’t he leave all the hormonal bullshit behind, too?

The ringing was intervened by his mentor’s voice. “What’s up kid?”

“Mr Stark!” Peter stopped to grit his teeth and stifle a groan as he swung around a building.

The sudden silence gave Tony a pause before he asked, “You okay?”

“Great. I’m okay. Uhm, remember that picture I sent you? Of that notebook?”

“The one that Octopus gave you?” Peter cringed at the new accuracy of the nickname. “Yeah. The nanotech one?”

“That’s the one. Y’know how I started working on a black suit for it?”

There was another silence before Tony chuckled with sudden nervousness. “Yeah. I remember.”

Peter squinted in suspicion. He kind of wished he’d asked for Facetime. “I need to drop by the facility again. Um… badly. Like super quickly.”

“Okay. Well, good news. I can definitely get the suit to you quickly.”

“What do you mean?”

Tony offered another chuckle before replying, “I finished it.”

Peter fumbled and nearly slammed into a building. He sputtered, “You— Mr Stark!”

“I know! I know! I’m sorry! I just couldn’t help myself. I was working on nanites by the time you popped by with the idea and after I finished my new armour I just wanted to test it out. More. On your suit.”

“You can’t be serious!”

“I’m sorry!”

“I’m a grown adult. Hell, I broke out of the most secure facility on the eastern seaboard with a calculator and a notepad. I can handle a suit!”

“You—”

“I told you not to go through my stuff!”

“I already said that I was sorry! I’ll let you pick and probe through one of my old suits. As reconciliation.”

Well, that wasn’t a bad offer. He stopped on top of a roof and huffed, “I’m not a teenager anymore.”

“I know.”

He exhaled and grumbled but shook his head and asked, “What did you mean by getting the suit to me quickly?”

“Exactly that. FRIDAY, unlock 17:A.”

Peter stared at the blue line that represented Mr Stark’s voice skeptically, waiting for an explanation. When none came, he groaned and opened his mouth to ask, but jumped up as his spidey-sense flared. He gaped as a small object flew past him before turning around and heading back for him.

Ah. Of course. Mr Stark had added a system to get the suit to him quickly. Figures. He grounded himself as the object slammed into his chest, knocking the air out of him and making him wince. The suit spread across his body, encasing him in a metal cocoon. He looked down at his hand and flexed it as system commands flashed across his screen. The suit was still black, and the yellow spider on his chest glowed the same as when he’d designed the suit. As he looked through the functions, the only change he spotted had to do with the efficiency of the nanotech.

He blew out a breath he had been holding in. “Wow… okay. It’s a bit heavier than I expected, but no biggie.”

“What, no thank you?” Tony teased.

Peter glared at the voice call and retorted, “I’ll thank you later.”

His mentor laughed good-naturedly. “Can’t wait. Hey, what do you need the suit for anyway?”

A news report flashed on his screen. Doctor Octavius was scaling Oscorp Tower with Harry entrapped in one of his claws. “Uhh. It’s a secret,” Peter told him slowly.

He could sense his disappointment the second Tony said, “Wh— kid. I thought we were done with the secrets.”

“Says the one who mondified _my_ suit without telling me... I’ll tell you later. Along with the thanks!” Peter ran off the building, flinging a wrist out to web a building. The suit supported his arms surprisingly well. “Karen, the call. Please.”

“Peter!” Tony exclaimed just as the call ended.

He sighed softly, looking up at the impending tower. This was going to be a bitch of a fight.

 

* * *

  

A good one of one and a half hours later, Peter found himself crawling into his living room window. Wade, who had been dozing off on the couch while an episode of Golden Girls droned on the tv, startled awake from the sound Peter’s body made when it flopped onto the floor.

Drowsily, Wade pushed himself up and mumbled, “You alright there?” With no response other than a groan, he looked back at him and scrambled up to his feet, uttering, “Jesus— baby boy?”

“‘M good,” he replied shakily as he chucked his mask off. “Real good. I think I tore a few muscles and lost a tooth and there’s a hole in my right shoulder and… and my fucking boss is a supervillain and Harry is back but the only thing I managed to get out of him was the fact that he fucking hates Spider-Man—”

Wade got down on his knees, eyeing his shoulder. ”Woah. Hold on, Webs. I thought I was the Merc with the Mouth.”

“You were,” he corrected. “You used to be.”

Wade slipped his arms under Peter’s armpits carefully. Peter hissed in pain but Wade continued to pull him up and into a bridal carry. Softly, he agreed, “Yeah, I used to be.”

He set him down on the couch and went into the kitchen, pulling out their med kit. They spent the next minutes in silence as Wade cut away the already torn suit to dab alcohol on his wounds and stitch them up. They had done this so many times. Sometimes, Peter had to reattach a limb so that it would heal quicker or Wade would have to path him up as he did now. This time, though, it was different. Something had changed between them.

He couldn’t tell what Wade was thinking. When he concentrated, his face would blank of any emotion. His forehead would knit together and he’d bite down on his lip. A very attractive lip.

“I really looked up to him, y’know?” Peter said suddenly.

“I know,” Wade confirmed. “You went on and on about him. Even more than Tony.”

“Yeah, well… Tony changed from a mentor figure to something more fatherly. I had to get a new idol.”

“If the Tin Can could hear you say that, I think he would burst into tears.”

Peter chuckled in agreement, getting cut short when the stitches on his stomach pulled at his skin and his lungs ached with the effort. Finally, Wade looked at his face. Here they were, on another couch, with Golden Girls playing in the background, in their own house. Their house. It had gone from Peter’s to _theirs_ so quickly. The guns and weapons littering the floor and tables probably helped, but the sentiment remained. It was a place they shared.

His breath hitched. “Wade… I’m… I’m so sorry I was avoiding you after we...”

“You weren’t avoiding me,” he interrupted. “Well, maybe you were. I wouldn’t blame you, but I really didn’t mind—”

“I know you did, though! I know it hurt you. It— my actions have nothing to do with anything you did. It was just… just the kiss. It was… well, it was you.”

Wade’s face dropped. He looked away, hands straying away from his body. Peter panicked and lurched forward, ignoring the flare of pain to grab his face in his hands. Wade’s eyes widened in surprise.

“What are you—”

“I was confused!” he interrupted. “I was conflicted and confused because you were my friend. You were a friend who I suddenly started feeling things for that weren’t platonic. But… whenever that happens… when I start to feel things for someone, they always get hurt. They get hurt or they die. I have no idea how Aunt May is holding on, but—”

“Peter,” Wade murmured. He lifted his own hands to cup his face, brushing away tears he hadn’t even realized he has shed. “I’m not going anywhere. Even if someone points a grenade launcher in between my eyes and or threatens to blow up every restaurant serving chimis and pancakes.”

He smiled weakly, his face burning with exhaustion, tears, and warmth. “Not even then?” he joked.

“No. Not even then. Not unless you tell me to shove my Glock up my ass and cockadoodledoo the fuck out of your life.”

Peter exhaled and shook his head gently. “I’d never tell you to do that.”

“I know.”

Wade brought his face closer, sealing their lips together. Peter sighed and sank into his touch. Electricity tingled his lip, soothing itself down his body. Why had he been so worried in the first place? It was so obvious that they had a thing for each other. The soft, caressing touches Wade graced upon his neck as his hand glided down Peter’s cheek was evidence enough. This was Wade. No matter what happened, they would stick together.

Their kisses were short in length but many in amount. Time inked by slowly. Finally, Peter pulled back slowly, careful to not irritate his wounds and hesitant to part Wade’s lips.

The man exhaled shakily and chuckled, “Well that was hot.”

Peter stared at him. The moonlight from the open window cast small shadows in the crevices and scars of his face. Even without hair or soft smooth skin, he was still gorgeous.

“Date me,” Peter whispered. “Please. I—”

Wade hesitated and pulled back slightly. Peter could feel dread build up in his stomach before the man asked, "Are you sure? I look like a deep fried testicle and you look like you belong in a young adult modelling magazine. Like Ryan Reynolds."

He snorted, relieved that the reason for hesitation had been something as silly as that. “I’m sure. I’d never leave you. Not even because you totally don’t look like Ryan Reynolds.”

A blinding smile spread across his lips. Wade leaned forward and wrapped his arms around him carefully, sticking his nose into the bountiful hills of Peter’s hair. Joyfully, he replied, “You don’t have to ask me thrice!”

They giggled like school girls and rearranged themselves on the couch, shifting so that Peter could lay on top of Wade and they could watch Golden Girls. Together.

 

* * *

 

Today would definitely make his list of top ten best days. It wasn’t very often that Wade could let loose, especially now that he had to keep up a reputation as squeaky clean as Keanu Reeves’. Which, if you spend nearly every day fighting criminals, can be hard to keep. He managed, though, which meant that his list of best days were overcome by activities he and Spidey accomplished; however, is anything NSFW warranted a spot, an alien invasion took the cookie. He was stoked to use Bea and Arthur on the weird alien things that looked like they belonged in an Alien movie. Plus, he got to see Cap again after the huge Civil War ordeal and years of creeping, so that was awesome.

(Speaking of favourite heroes, where's Spidey?)

[Probably fighting these things elsewhere]

As Deadpool sliced one of the alien’s heads off, he vocalized, "He went with Ned and MJ to MoMA."

(To momma?)

[MoMA. The Museum of Modern Art.]

(Why the fuck would Petey go to a museum?)

“MJ bribed him to stop ignoring them.” He grunted as one of the aliens managed to bite down on his arm, but made quick work of it as he cut his way out. “Besides, Pete likes art. He takes photos all the time, and he nearly cried when we got him that camera for Christmas, remember?”

[He had been very eager.]

(That was the best nights ever. We should get him more gifts.)

[But then he started wasting all the camera space with our ugly mug.]

(If the lens shatters in fear, we’ll just get him another one.)

He had to agree. Peter’s unwavering persistence when it came to photographing his face would never cease to amaze him. The kid would always find ways to sneak his camera or phone in. Usually, it was while they were being affectionate. He played dirty.

“Thank God I decided to take S.H.I.E.L.D. missions after I quit being a merc,” he added. “Webs is high maintenance.”

[He really isn’t, we just spend all of our money on him.]

(He never says no!)

[He always says no.]

He grinned in agreement. Peter’s complaining wouldn’t stop him from pampering. It simply encouraged him to do it more. The boy had been living off of red bull and snacks for years. Without that crazy metabolism of his, he would be struggling to swing as fluidly as he managed.

As he cut down another alien from his path, a stream of light slammed into the ground. He heard someone angrily scream, “Bring me Thanos!” Then the battlefield turned into the inside of a blue plasma ball while another slam rocked the earth beneath him.

(I wonder if Thor is this good at slamming in bed.)

[Peter, Yellow. We’re fucking Peter.]

“Yeah, Yellow.” Wade mocked. “Baby boy already exceeds at slamming. And taking a slamming.”

The earth rumbled again. Before Wade could dismiss it as another one of Thor’s enthusiastic K.O.s, the ground erupted to reveal huge, spiky disks. Unfortunately, he had the displeasure of meeting the inner workings of the machine. Definitely not one of his favourite ways to go. He had to reconsider if this day really was worthy of a spot on his list.

When he came to, he immediately noted that the death disks had been blissfully put out of commission. Beside him, a lady with the oddest haircut he had ever seen was speaking to him rapidly in Xhosa. She was staring at him with wide eyes. He quickly deduced that she was either shocked by the fact that he was healing rapidly or the fact that his body looked like a sea cucumber. The lady dropped her weapon by his side and jumped up, running off somewhere.

Groggily, and in pain from the toll of healing consciously, he waited a few minutes for his body to regenerate. Then, he tracked down his sword and the weapons that hadn’t been destroyed. He ended up utilizing the spear the lady had left him, but the battlefield wasn’t as hectic as it had been. With Thor’s arrival, the battle had apparently gone smoother. The aliens were starting to backtrack, so he could only assume that Thanos’ children had all been destroyed. He found his desert eagle first and scored some headshots with it before he found Bea and Arthur. In the background, Thor crashed into the odd triangular ships and wrecked them before changing his trajectory for the forest. He could almost hear the threatening music boom.

As the boxes picked up the chatter again, they began to theorize about the portion of the battle he had missed. He spotted a group of Wakandans and the lady who had given him the spear.

Then, he heard the snap.

It was as if someone had dropped an ocean of bleach on the world. His ears ringed as his sight went white. A second ticked by before it returned. He looked around in confusion. That… had been an intense hallucination. Wade returned his attention to the group. His eyes caught sight of the lady who had given him the spear. He opened his mouth to shout a thanks, but his voice clung to his throat as she crumbled before him. That gave him a pause. He blinked. She wasn’t there anymore.

“Guys,” he started slowly. “What the fuck? Which one of you is making a music video for _Another One Bites the Dust_?”

The Wakandans seemed shocked as well. One of the aliens took advantage of their panic and managed to slice at someone’s arm.

(We didn’t do anything!)

[It would seem that person just turned to dust.]

“That’s not fun—” Deadpool yelped in surprise when an alien grabbed his arm and thrashed him. He slammed Bea into its skull, face twisting as its jaw unhinged and released his limp, disjointed, hanging arm.

“Motherfucker!” he hissed. “That fucking hurt!”

(Maybe our arm can be a metaphor for ‘performance issues’.)

[We don’t get those.]

(‘Cause we heal too quick! That’s a better metaphor. Way better than putting an unlit cigarette in our mouth.)

Wade watched with squinted eyes as the aliens that had lingered began to backtrack and retreat. The one who had gotten a scratch in stayed and fought. He watched one launch themselves at a Wakandan soldier and slam into the ground when it was met with dust. He squinted and looked around, losing interest in the dwindling amount of aliens.

The more he surveyed, the more he felt his stomach twist itself into knots. All of the heroes were gone from the field.

“Damnit, Cable,” he growled.

He turned around and sprinted for the forest. He was wearing some weird body suit he didn’t remember putting on, but he was definitely naked under it, so that lady had probably slapped it on him.

[Are you saying she dressed us?]

(Maybe it’s one of their techy shit things. Like a cracky bracelet.)

[A what?]

(The… the ones you can… slap.)

[... A snap bracelet?]

(That’s the one!)

The conversation was one Wade had no interest in joining. As he breezed by warriors, a few of them began to crust and flutter away. If his brain wasn’t playing some fucked up trick on him, then people were seriously turning to dust. A plane crashed behind him.

He jogged through the forest, anxiety clawing his chest. What if all of the Not-Avengers were gone? Or what if Thanos was still present? He yanked out his katanas in preparation as he stepped into a small clearing. He slowed to a stop, eyes glued to the grey form of Vision on the ground. Slowly, he analyzed the area. People were missing.

Cap was on the ground beside Vision’s body. Black Widow, War Machine, Bruce Banner, Thor, and Rocket all stood behind him, staring at the ground in disbelief. There was no Winter Soldier, or Black Panther, or Falcon, or Groot, or Scarlet Witch in sight. From the forest, Okoye stumbled into the field, eyeing the silent heroes in despair.

Fear sunk its teeth into his skin.

“Where is Spider-Man?” he hissed. “Where is he? Or the Tin— Tony? Where the fuck are they?”

Bruce, from his large armoured Iron Man suit, mumbled, “Spider-Man and Tony were fighting in New York. I’m not exactly sure what happened, but I saw Tony flying up to the alien spaceship. I think… I think Spider-Man might have followed him.”

Deadpool stared at him in disbelief and growled, “He’s in space?”

From beside the fallen tree, the raccoon grumbled, “Well at least he ain’t here.”

“That’s the fucking problem!” he shouted. “I can’t— I can’t protect him from falling buildings if he’s in fucking space!”

Captain America looked up at him with the saddest excuse of a stern look. “Wade. Now is not—”

“Oh, fuck off,” he snapped. “All you and your entourage did for like five years was fuck around.”

He turned away and sprinted for the city, ignoring the sound of his name being cried out.

 

* * *

 

Space had never really been on Peter’s bucket list. Sure, the stars and cosmos were cool, and there had been a moment in his childhood in which he had thought he’d wanted to be an astronaut, but astrology had never really been his strong point. He was a biophysicist, through and through. And honestly? After the experience he had so far, he’d rather stay on earth.

Throwing the weird Squidward dude out into the deep vacuums of nowhere had been a horrific scene. His morals were still contemplating whether or not he had assisted in murder and he was reeling over the fact that he had nearly died. Again. If Mr Stark hadn’t given him his new suit, which he’d been dying to wear for about five years, he would surely have been floating with Squidward and Dr. Strange in space.

With that said, his day was getting worse by the second. He had expected a fun day with MJ and Ned. The museum wasn’t exactly an amusement park, but the fact that they would be able to gather outside of ESU was enough. He hadn’t managed to encourage Wade to join them, which had dampened his mood a bit, but his loyal boyfriend insisted that he should be able to enjoy a day with his best friends. However, on the drive, he seriously regretted not insisting. The huge circular spacecraft had sent his spidey sense into a frenzy and he ended up ditching them. From there, he found Tony, snuck onto the spaceship, saved some dude called Dr. Strange, listened to him and Mr Stark argue, met a bunch of other aliens and some human dude who thought Footloose was a good movie, crash landed on some planet named Titan, and fought a huge purple alien with a golden glove.

The plan to defeat Thanos hadn’t gone in the way they had hoped. Quill — or Star-Lord — had ended up unravelling their succeeding assault, but Peter honestly couldn’t blame him. He understood the dead girlfriend thing. He may or may not have gotten lost in the past during their conversation. And he may or may not have let Thanos throw him because of it. And he may or may not be drowning in guilt thanks to those thoughts. Either way, Mr Stark got stabbed because of it. Which had not been cool, he nearly started crying when he thought he’d been about to die.

Peter had rushed to Tony’s side to help him up, both pleased and concerned that he didn’t try to push him away. Their team huddled together, bruised, bleeding and defeated. And then they waited. And waited.

Suddenly, Mantis looked around, eyes scanning the planet. “Something's happening.”

And then she faded into dust.

At first, Peter had thought he’d hallucinated it. He even went as far as to assume he was in a dream. An intricate and incredibly real dream. But then the large blue man followed in her footsteps and the nail he was digging into his own neck wasn’t waking him up. Mr Stark turned to Quill, comforting him only to watch him drift away.

“Tony,” Dr. Strange addressed calmly. “There was no other way.”

And then he was gone too.

And then it was just them.

Death had been something Peter thought of constantly. How couldn’t he? His parents had passed away, Ben had followed them, and then Gwen had succumbed as well. But then he’d encountered Wade, the merc who couldn’t seem to die, no matter how many times he bled out in their apartment. In the grand scheme of things, Peter’s death seemed so insignificant. Others could take up the superhero mantle and protect New York, but he couldn’t leave Wade behind. Alone in a cruel world which would never give him the benefit of the doubt.

The thought had anxiety crawling up his throat, just as a jittery feeling struck his system. “Mr Stark? I don’t feel so good—”

With his spidey sense going haywire and his own vision able to see as flakes of dust raised from his own skin, he found that his concern was placed simply on his boyfriend. His lovely, gorgeous boyfriend. And his anxiety wasn’t letting up.

With a cautious step forward, Tony’s eyes widened as he insisted, “You’re alright.”

He didn’t have enough time for Tony to gather his courage. He flew forward, grabbing onto his jacket as he stuttered, “I don't— I don't know what's happening— I don't—” But he did. He was going to fade away. The two of them tripped over the debris littering the floor and hit the ground. He couldn’t help but wonder if he’d accidentally hurt Mr Stark on the way down. His benefactor, no, his mentor who was practically his father...

With his last breath, Peter murmured a soft, “I’m sorry. Please…”

Tony interjected as his own cut off, insisting, “Kid— Peter— you… you can’t. I told you that you couldn’t… you can’t— can’t leave while I’m around.”

He caught sight of the fluttering petals of dust and rushed out, “Please tell Wade I don’t regret a thing. Please. I love you both.”

As much as he wished to leave the world valiantly, he didn’t want to die. He wanted to live a happy and long life with Wade. He wanted to adopt Ellie and introduce her to Mr Stark. He wanted to do so many things. Hug Harry and confess his grievances. Watch another Star Wars marathon with Ned. Listen to MJ’s conspiracy theories.

And with all the irony in the world, Peter desperately clung onto the first song off the top of his head to stave off the rising panic and prickling pain running through his body.

_Another One Bites the Dust._

 

* * *

 

Wakanda had been in disarray. There were people crying in the streets and abandoned belongings everywhere. Wade burst into the quinjet with shaking hands. It was easy to get the jet started — perks of being boyfriends with Tony Stark’s almost son — and into autopilot.

What was he supposed to do? His boyfriend was in space with Tony Stark, and he had no means of reaching him.

(We could build a spaceship!)

[What if Tin Can dusted?]

Then Peter would be all alone. All alone in space with no one to help him. Did he even have oxygen? Did that spaceship have food? Shakily, he pulled out his phone from one of his many pockets and tried to reach Peter. It went to voicemail immediately. He listened to his voice to stave off the panic.

[What if _he_ dusted?]

Oh god, what if Peter had dusted? He would have no means to get him back. He wouldn’t even be able to find the dust because it would be in space! He would be all alone. All alone.

[Alone]

Again. All, all, all alone.

[He promised he’d never leave us. He lied.]

Fuck, he lied. He left. He’s gone. He’s never coming back.

His breath shuddered. Peter promised. His glittering doe-eyed baby boy promised not to leave him. They never even got to confess.

Now it was too late.

He shouldn’t have acted like such an asshole when they first met. He should have been courteous, not scaring the shit out of him. When they first fought together, he should have done more. Maybe stopped ogling his ass. He should have done something. If he had been more effective, maybe Peter would still be with him. Hell, maybe if he just hadn’t shown up for the first time they had a taco date, Peter wouldn’t have gotten attached. It was his fault. He was the reason he was dead.

[If only you hadn’t baited him.]

“I didn’t bait him,” he insisted. “I loved him. I really— he was my everything.”

[And now everything is gone because you had to get involved with him.]

The first time Peter cried and told him of his troubles; he should have done a better job at comforting him. God, if only he could comfort his baby boy now. If only he could hold him and kiss his head. He had almost died on his watch once. It had happened so many times after, but perhaps, if he had done more the first time…

He just wanted to feel his heartbeat. The warmth of his skin. Watch the way his cheeks flushed with embarrassment or arousal. The way his eyes had dilated when they first kissed; when Wade had taken Peter to meet Ellie. He just wanted to watch him interact with her again.

Those firsts defined their relationship. All of them. The first time Peter stood up for him against Tony, the first time he had called him while Wade was away, the first time they had shared a bed together, or the first time they had decorated a Christmas tree together.

He wanted to go back. Relieve all of them infinitely. He just… he didn’t want to think of the lasts.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm so sorry this was posted on Valentines Day.


End file.
